


distorted scenery

by tanteitwopoint0



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: M/M, No Spoilers, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanteitwopoint0/pseuds/tanteitwopoint0
Summary: "The time has been passing by alwaysThe world collapsing every secondsConcealed over by distorted sceneryI don't need the answer, but a lie is enough"It rains, for the first time in Saishuu Academy.[no ndrv3 spoilers!!]





	distorted scenery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChromeXVII](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromeXVII/gifts).



> this was my ndrv3 christmas in july piece for @chromexvii!! i hope you like this piece, chrome!!
> 
> its a saiouma oneshot with no spoilers! surprisingly. takes place in prison mode, more or less, and in an au (???) where it can storm inside saishuu. or something like that,
> 
> anyway i hope you enjoy...!

Storm winds never howled, Kokichi thought, the way people say they did in books. Instead, he’s always thought they cried, battered pitifully at the windows with fingers of cold rain like a sullen child; thought it weeped quietly, pathetically, as its tears sloshed over the world beneath it— as if it were spilling its distress on an earth that couldn’t care otherwise. Like a slobbery, sniffly toddler begging desperately for attention, when no one really bothered to care.

Kokichi’s never quite liked the rain.

It’s raining now, with those claws of ice at the windows, the mourning, sobbing rain. He didn’t think it possible, here, in the dome that encased them all in their hell of a so-called  _game_ — where the sun glared at them behind the glass of a cage, where the moon and stars gazed back at them, expressions dry and cold— and yet here it had come, the smell of ozone flying in on a gust of wind, its hazy breath sweet on their tongues, before a fat drop had caught Momota right between the eyes and they all found themselves scrambling as Toujou commanded them all to go, go, go.

Moments after Chabashira’s sandal had loudly slapped its way into the safety of the dormitory doors, the darkening sky screamed, tore itself open, and from behind the safety of the windows, the sixteen students all stared in barely hidden awe as they watched their first lightning storm in months.

It wasn’t very long, before Toujou took change once again, sweeping them all towards their dorms; they didn’t even bother with the evening announcements, with curfew.

No one would be going outside tonight.

That was a good thing, Kokichi thinks; if anything, at least, it’d discourage a murder. Possibly. Maybe. Not that it’ll ever dissuade the possibility, no, of course not— besides, he’d never let his guard down. But he’ll allow himself some peace, an attempt at peace of mind, (and tries to shake off the fear that in his neglectance, he’ll find someone dead, dead, dead).

He was squeezed between the frame and a slightly open door as he watched the others trail into their rooms, Toujou dutifully watching over them all before retiring, quietly, slipping near silently into her own. From his corner, Kokichi watched her slip away; and once she was gone, leaving behind nothing in the lobby but the sound of his breathing and life behind every door but his own, he stepped outside, tugged his gaze towards the windows, and with both feet bare, face silent, and eyes cold, he watched the world cry.

But not for very long. Soon he felt a darkness building within his insides, a thick knotting at the bottom of his throat, a ghost playing on his tongue; hastily, he blamed it on the boredom and returned quickly into the safety of his room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Now he finds himself buried in a nest of his own sheets, tucked snugly in the corner between his mattress and the wall as he squeezes his eyes and listens to the raging storm outside. It tramples viciously upon the roof, sounding like kettle drums, and thunder crackles and rolls in the charcoal gray clouds above like the resounding tremors of bronze gongs. Quakes rock the earth beneath him in uneven sets of two and three, and after a moment Kokichi’s eyes float open again, soon fixing on the mess cluttered across his desk as it quivers in time to the beating tempests outside.

He can’t go to sleep.

He inhales, listening to his lungs; he feels his sheets lightly press against him as his chest lifts, watching his breath stain the air before him with a musky cloud of his own carbon dioxide before vanishing into nothingness. Lifting his eyes, his gaze slowly crawls up the wall and to the ceiling, Kokichi moistens his dry lips— and inhales, sharply, at the blasting of yet another strike, breath held as he hears it echo throughout the dome, soon drowned out by the torrent of water falling from the skies.

He waits, eyes wide; he allows a moment, breath held, before he releases his lungs, feeling his body relax, the sheets around him going limp. He lifts his head; he surveys his room, not quite knowing what he’s looking for, and feeling an emptiness in his chest, with a tug towards somewhere in his heart, he finds his legs pulling off the mattress, his bare feet slipping to the floor, the sheets cascading off the bed.

For a moment, he allows himself to not care, and quietly follows his feet as they lead him out his door.

And still wrapped in his blankets, he finds himself just before Saihara’s own.

For a second, panic blossoms in his stomach, bubbling around his insides in terror. Where had this come from? Why was he here? Saihara was—  _nothing_ , simply a friend; perhaps, maybe, he’d hung out with him a couple of times, after the detective approached him when no one else even  _tried_. But he was shy, probably tired, probably busy. Busy sleeping, like everyone else; like how Kokichi  _should_  be. He had no business barging in.

This was a waste of time. He’d never been one to care much for his already scattered sleeping schedule; perhaps it’d be for the best if he just—

“Ouma-kun?”

Kokichi was never quite one to be so easily surprised. But it’s nearly like one of those fingers of lightning had slithered into the cavity of his chest and struck right at his heart, and he nearly startles out of his cocoon of blankets as he finds himself suddenly face to face with the detective.

Saihara looks tired. His clothes seem freshly changed, and his dark hair frames his head, glossy with glistening beads at the tips; from behind him, Kokichi picks up the scent of moisture, and sees the cloud of steam cloaking the room in a faint haze.

He takes a deep breath, involuntarily, and Saihara’s scent washes over him as he feels himself still in response.

God. What is  _wrong_  with him?

Kokichi shifts his feet. Saihara just looks at him.

“Ouma-kun?” The taller boy says yet again, this time with a hesitance lining his tone. Feeling the panic bubble at his stomach again, Kokichi swiftly pulls himself back in, and forces an easy smile.

“Saihara-chan!” Kokichi lifts himself to his toes as he leaned forwards, nose teasingly coming to nearly touch the other’s, and— well, as expected, the detective’s own reddens and swiftly pulls back, his hand darting to the doorframe for support. Kokichi giggles, and pulls back to give him his space, bouncing slightly on his heels. “Oh, I just wanted to see how my beloved Saihara-chan was doing~! I couldn’t help but worry, hearing this storm… it’s terrifying, isn’t it? I wouldn’t blame you, if you were scared! Huh? Are you scared?”

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara looks at him, lips tight. His eyes spark with something foreign, as if with electricity, and Kokichi simply blinks back, trying to discern what that meant. “Please, I’m fine. But I’m kinda tired… everyone is. You should really go to bed.”

“Not until I hear you’re alright! How can I sleep, knowing that you could be cowering under your sheets, all frightened of the storm outside…?!” Kokichi pouts, puffing his cheeks, leaning in again the best he could without falling over from the weight of his blankets. Saihara simply stares at him for a moment, and delightment flutters in his heart when his gaze eventually gives way and softens, flickering away in embarrassment.

“I am fine,” he insists, expression growing gentle as he rubs at the back of his neck, chewing at his tongue as his cheek lightly bobbed. “Actually… I like this kind of weather a lot. It helps me sleep, so I guess I’m pretty thankful for it, even if it’ll make tomorrow morning kind of soggy…”

“Oh?” Kokichi’s eyebrows leap on his forehead at the new information. He draws circles on the floor with his toe, tapping his chin with a just barely quivering index that peeks out from his makeshift cocoon. “Mmmm… well, if you insist! That’s a relief to hear. I’m glad my beloved is doing alright!”

“Um…”

As Saihara simply stares at him, trying to piece together the puzzle he’ll never have all the pieces for, Kokichi feels their words fall into a lull— and he feels himself deflate, just a bit.

“Well, anyway! I just wanted to check on you. I should really be getting back to bed, huh?”

He hadn’t meant to stay so long, to waste so much time. He turns on a heel, expression falling back into nothingness, ready to disappear into his room.

“…Ouma-kun, are you alright?”

Kokichi stops.

“Ehh… is that  _concern_  I hear from you?” he teases, spinning right back around, tilting his head with a sharpened smile. “Aww, I can’t believe you care about me! How sweet of you, Saihara-chan!”

Saihara stares at him, and Kokichi can practically see the gears turning in his head as his gray eyes flicker over his profile. He feels his own expression fade again, limbs limping as he turns himself to face him completely, and he stares right back, as if daring him to speak.

The detective hesitates, and Kokichi’s nearly sure that he’s given up. He’s nearly about to think, well, what a shame— but something hardens in the detective’s expression, as if he’s stumbled across something new, and Kokichi just barely lifts an eyebrow as Saihara chews at his tongue, staring him down in a new spark of resolve.

“No— really. I… Ouma-kun… you usually don’t approach me like this. Why did you come to my room?”

“Mmm?” He tilts his head, again. “Who’s to say that means anything? We’ve only known each other for a couple days, right? That could mean absolutely nothing, you know.” A pause. A smile. “But that’s a lie. Or is it?”

Saihara shifts his own feet, looking slightly uncomfortable. Something presses, tightly, at his heart, and Kokichi ignores it and presses on.

“Why should you care, though? You look awfully busy, anyway. I appreciate the concern, Saihara-chan, but you should really just—”

“Ouma-kun, are you scared of lightning?”

“… what?”

Kokichi stares at him. Saihara stares back.

Lightning flashes behind them, illuminating the detective’s face with sharply edged shadows, throwing white against the walls. And in an act of betrayal, his eyes flickers away towards the windows, breaking their gaze.

There’s  _that_  look in Saihara’s eyes, again, and Kokichi feels a dread settle into his stomach, his smile just wavering. “Saihara-chan?”

The detective’s hand drops from the safety of the frame, and he steps back, making a space between himself and the door. “You can come in, if you’d like.”

Kokichi just stares, again, this time at the inside of his room as the storm growls louder outside. He tries to find the words to refuse, but finds them die on his tongue as Saihara swallows and continues, looking away, “I mean… you don’t have to. If you’re so uncertain, I won’t force you—”

“Whaaat? You think I’d refuse such a generous offer?” And he slips right back, finding the smile coming easier, an ease ebbing through the tension in his body as he smirks back at the taller boy. “Of course I wouldn’t! I may be a supreme leader, but I have manners~ What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t? Besides, I’ve always wanted to know what my beloved Saihara-chan’s room looked like…! I’ve always considered lockpicking your room, but instead you just let me right in…! How foolishly bold of you!”

The old exhaustion settles back in Saihara’s eyes, and Kokichi simply smiles back, slipping into his room quickly as the detective closes the door behind them, the sounds of thunder and rain muffled slightly behind the walls.

“So… is everything alright?”

Kokichi smiles, tilting his head towards him, eyes turned away. From beneath the blankets, he grips at his sheets. “Hmm? Did you say something?”

Saihara holds his breath behind him, hesitating. After a moment, he heads towards his bed; quickly smoothing his sheets, he turns and settles down on it, before looking over, as if ready for some kind of long talk.  “You can tell me if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong!” He spreads his lips out in a broad, teasing grin. He won’t take that bait. “Besides, like I said— how could I turn down an offer to visit my beloved Saihara-chan’s room? I’ll admit— this relationship of ours is going kinda quickly, and to think that you’re the one hurrying it up like this…! Well, but I’m not complaining.”

The blush that flashes across the other’s face is more than entertaining, and Kokichi’s tongue peeks out from between his lips, unintentionally or not. “Hmm… Or is that a lie? Your expressions are just too easy to read, Saihara-chan.”

“Ouma-kun…” the detective looks like he’s regretting his decision. As he should, Kokichi thinks, faintly, but finds himself firmly planted to the floor, unable to spin back around, toes drawing whorls into the carpet yet again.

“Mmm? Is there something wrong?”

Saihara takes a bit to answer. “No,” he says, and Ouma smiles at the little white lie.

“Allllright then, if you insist,” he says, eyes fixed tightly on him as he glides over to the other boy’s bed, raising an eyebrow as he settles into standing right before him. He allows the detective a moment to react as he startles, looking back up at him, and Kokichi grins at him before teetering forward and letting himself fall over, sheets and all.

There was a muffled, surprised yell of, “O— Ouma-kun!” before it was quickly smothered by blankets and Kokichi’s resounding laughter as he quickly rolled off, looking over at the slightly stunned and winded detective with a smile.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks again, teasingly. Saihara wheezes, gaze fixed to the ceiling, and manages, “O— Ouma-kun… w— why did you do that?”

“Why do I do anything?” is his cheeky response. He wriggles in his cocoon. “Oh— I’m stuck! How unfortunate. Help me up, Saihara-chan!”

The expression he gives him is so hilariously devoid of any amusement whatsoever that Kokichi can’t help but break into laughter (because— of course, he doesn’t expect Saihara to actually try, but it was still fun asking him, anyway)— but it cuts out suddenly halfway, his breath hitching in surprise as Saihara abruptly stands up and literally wraps his arms around him.

“Saihara-chan?” he almost squeaks, but the other boy’s face is just by his, still slightly-wet hair tickling his nose; finding his breath, he swears he picks up a whiff of his shampoo as Saihara, with a grunt, literally heaves him right back up, setting him down into a sitting position.

“There,” he says, panting slightly, before hesitating when he sees Kokichi’s expression. “Ouma-kun?”

“Oh!” He smoothes his alarm into his usual smile. “Oh, nothing. I didn’t think you could actually do that! Your build isn’t all that impressive, you know.”

The detective’s expression sours slightly and he rolls his eyes, giving him another unamused look as he moves to sit next to him again. Meanwhile Kokichi simply hums, letting himself sway back and forth as he watches him, and when Saihara sighs, relaxing and closing his eyes, he says, “Sooo, now what?”

Saihara opens an eye. “Now what?”

“You invited me here, didn’t you? And now I’m here! Now what?” He grins further. “Oooh, are you asking about that already? Inviting me to your room, and now this… wow, you’re so bold, Saihara-chan! I— I’m so honored…!”

There’s another wave of beet red that quite literally burns at the other’s face, and Kokichi picks up the nervousness twitching at his fingers as he tries to squeak an answer. “N— no! Of course not! Don’t jump to conclusions like that…!” He swallows, and the color fades from his face, just barely. “It’s… I just… I don’t know. I thought you wanted to get away from the weather a little, or…”

“Or?” Kokichi hums again, and as he sways his way towards him he lets the momentum carry him, his head lightly tapping the other’s shoulder. “Did you not think this through, then?”

Saihara looks at him. “I just wanted to help you out.”

He swings the other way. “Aaand? How would you do that, Saihara-chan?”

“Just… like I said. And talking to you, too, maybe… besides, I think I’ve helped a lot already. You seem a little more at ease.”

He nearly freezes, but manages to wrangle himself in and simply hesitates a little as he sways back, stopping just before hitting his shoulder again. “Oh? You think so?”

“Yeah.” There’s a note of confidence in his voice, this time, and despite himself Kokichi smiles, even as the walls quiver in another clap of thunder.

“Woow, you’re right! I feel so at ease already!” he says, half teasing, ceasing his swaying just to give the detective a wide grin. “Are you sure you aren’t the Super High School Level Therapist or something, Saihara-chan? Ooor… could that just be you? Maybe my heart is at ease just because I’m in the presence of my beloved and surprisingly strong detective prince Saihara-chan…!”

Saihara reddens, and mumbles something under his breath. Kokichi tilts his head, the tease still playing on his lips. “Mm? Saihara-chan? Did you say something?”

The detective looks over, almost startled, and shakes his head. “No, I… I just said you don’t have to bring your lie as far as that.”

It dissolves on his tongue. Kokichi tilts his head. “What? Saihara-chan, did you think I lied to you?”

He can literally see his throat bob as Saihara swallows. “Well… I mean, considering who you are…”

Kokichi strings together another smile. “Oh, well, I suppose I don’t blame you. Because I am a liar, after all! Even about things like that. Right?”

“I…”

“You can just tell me if you don’t wanna accept a compliment, okay? I didn’t know you had an aversion to those kinda things… I guess you learn something new every day, right? Even in this kind of school!”

“Ouma-kun…”

Kokichi looks at him. “Yes, Saihara-chan?”

“… I’m sorry.”

He’s biting at his lip. Something lurches, inside Kokichi, and he tilts his head away in a false nonchalance, humming again. “Oh, it’s fine. I understand.”

“No, really. Ouma-kun, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I’m sorry.”

Kokichi still can’t look at him, and decides to stare at his socks instead. “What, you think you hurt my feelings? Supreme leaders are more tough than that, you know!”

He finally looks up, again, and this time there’s a look in Saihara’s eyes that he doesn’t need to puzzle out.

Saihara says, “If you want to go, you can just go. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

“Oh, I’m not going. You invited me in, didn’t you? Or are you regretting that already?”

“I’m not,” Saihara says, and it hurts more than it should when he feels the blatant lie thrumming beneath his words.

It shouldn’t bother him— (why is it bothering him?)— but Kokichi studies the detective, lips a thin line. Why was he here anyway, in the first place? He hears the rain still, just outside, pummeling at the walls. He can’t see it, but he certainly still  _hears_  it; reminds him of the brief resolve he’d held, of what’d brought him here, still.  Maybe he’d like to stay. Maybe what few minutes he had here were fun enough, he’ll admit, but…

Lightning crashes outside, again.

And somewhere inside of him, something deflates.

“… maybe I should go, actually,” Kokichi says, eyes still fixed to the detective yet gaze wandering elsewhere. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me again like that, especially after calling me out as one yourself. Don’t you think that’s pretty hypocritical?”

“Ouma-kun?”

“Sleep well, Saihara-chan,” he hears himself say, knees straightening, toes pointing towards the door as his legs started to lead him outside.

“Ouma-kun, I— wait. Wait, I’m sorry.”

“Goodnight.”

“Ouma-kun—!”

He reaches for the handle, but a hand wraps around his wrist, stopping him. He doesn’t turn around.

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara says, voice low. He’s so close; Kokichi can feel his breath brush against his ear. “Please. Listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” he says, with no inflection.

“I’m sorry. I just…” Saihara inhales. “Let me help you. Just… just don’t go. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I hurt you. Please… let me make up for that.”

“And how, exactly, do you plan on making up for that?”

Warm arms wrap around his neck, and he finds himself being pulled in, head fitting into the crook of Saihara’s neck, tucked just beneath his chin. His breath flutters against his hair, and despite himself Kokichi’s breath hitches, again.

“Is this okay?”

Kokichi says nothing.

“ … you don’t have to say anything, Ouma-kun. It’s alright.”

Despite himself, Kokichi finds himself nodding back against Saihara’s chin. He moistens his lips.

“ … do you want to stay?”

Another nod.

“Alright.”

They stay like that, for a few minutes. Kokichi, standing there just before the door, and Saihara, with arms wrapped around him, breathing in the scent of the smaller boy. Kokichi wonders if he can smell how long it’s been since he’s bothered to take a bath. Or if he cares.

Kokichi dares himself to hope that he doesn’t. And when the earth quakes again, and he hears the wind screaming, he finds a peace settling quietly within his heart, and, after a breath of hesitation, allows it to sweep over his body.

“Thank you,” he finds his lips saying. Or, he thinks it does. He doesn’t know. He hopes he did.

“You’re welcome,” he thinks Saihara whispers, just a moment later, as his hair flutters, again.

Kokichi smiles.

He thinks he can settle for that, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: it was actually thundering for a good time i was writing this. welcome to florida
> 
> also ouma is. hard to write ?? i've written a lot about just his overall motivations and his role in ndrv3 from a literary standpoint and yada yada but when it comes to like. moment to moment or whatever you call it and his damn speECH PATTERNS im lost akdfladnfasdf
> 
> anyway though that was fun. i wrote a lot of this riding on two cups of coffee too lmao. time to go to bed I Guess  
> weak thumbs up


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